It's Samael To You
by Lucigoosey The Lightbringer
Summary: Michael and Lucifer still have some things to work out.


It was a week after all the big events, and some of the drama had died down, for the most part. Lucifer was mulling around Lux, a bottle of whiskey in his hand as he swept his wings along the floor, deciding they were a much better broom than the one he had broken before. Amenadiel was out with Maze, and he was pretty sure Michael was with Ella, Chloe was with Trixie and Dan… Well, Lucifer didn't really care where he was - No offense to Detective Douche, but the angel wasn't exactly in the mood for company. And he did have to get the penthouse cleaned up eventually, something he'd been avoiding, because looking at the large pieces of glass made his mind drift back to that night, and in particular…

Well, Michael. Lucifer had always thought he hated his brother, with a burning, fiery passion. He'd always thought that after everything Michael had done to him, he wouldn't _care_ if…

Lucifer faltered, but only for a second, mouth pressing into a thin line as he straightened up and lifted his wings, studying the pieces of the glass that he had scooped up. He'd just gotten them back - Literally a day ago (he'd learned Amenadiel had gotten his back, and he assumed Michael did as well), and Lucifer found that he didn't quite mind it as much as he had before. He didn't really see it as his Father trying to control him, not anymore. He didn't see it as God trying to force him into being an angel again, rather than the Devil he'd become. After all, his Devil face had returned, too.

And a more startling revelation was that Lucifer didn't think he wanted to be the Devil anymore. It was more than just being the Ruler of Hell - Even after he'd called it quits on his old job, he still prided himself in being exactly what his Father had turned him into… Or, rather, what he'd turned himself into. The Devil, Satan, rebellious son of God… Fallen angel.

He didn't want to be the Devil, so what did that make him? An angel? He hadn't thought of himself as an angel for a really, really long time, and if he had, the word "angel" usually had the word "fallen" before it.

Maybe he was human.

The thought of that made him laugh. Sure, he was mortal around Chloe for the most part, but as intriguing as that was, Lucifer knew he wasn't one for mortality. And he didn't want to be. He liked who he was now - Even if he couldn't really figure out _who_ he was…

The sound of the elevator drew him from his thoughts, and he looked up, half-expecting Chloe and half-expecting some stripper to walk through. The former would have been favorable, the latter would have been kindly asked to leave, because he'd sworn that off the moment he and Chloe had decided to take it one step further in their relationship.

It was neither Chloe nor a stripper, and Lucifer's eyebrows raised in surprise as he watched his brother step through, wondering for a split second why he was using the elevator in the first place. "Michael," he hummed, wings lowering slightly before he turned, easily dumping the glass into the large bin beside him. "Do you need something?"

"Nah." Michael regarded him almost cautiously, an odd emotion flickering through his amber eyes. And, after sparing his brother a glance, Lucifer folded his wings back and gave up on the cleaning for a moment, taking one last sip of the whiskey before crossing the room to hand the bottle to him. Michael took it with an appreciative hum. "I wanted to check up on you. Guess you've been busy the last couple of days." He must have decided the bottle was an interesting thing to look at, because he didn't move his eyes from it. "We haven't really had much time to talk about…"

"Your death experience?" Lucifer guessed, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. The gears in his head started turning, slightly hesitant for a second as he looked Michael up and down, then glanced away. "I suppose we haven't really talked about it, have we?" He mumbled. "You here for revenge?"

"You _know_ I'm not," Michael chided, his voice going unnaturally soft, and Lucifer's brown eyes flickered back to him, seeking out his brother's amber ones. And, somewhat reluctantly, the older angel lifted his head to finally look at him again, looking uncertain. "I just," he started, but faltered, unsure. "I…"

The realization hit hard, what his brother was trying to say, the look in his eyes - Guilt. He'd seen a lot of that in his time, but it was weird seeing the emotion on Michael's face, of all people. He kept silent, but the mask he put up had faded just a little bit, eyebrows knitting together as he stared at his older brother. But it quickly became apparent that Michael wasn't going to speak yet. He had a tortured look on his face, no longer meeting the younger angel's gaze, and instead staring down with a mixture of guilt, frustration and agony flickering through his eyes. Lucifer had never seen him so…

Self-loathing.

Surprisingly, he didn't like it, either. "Michael," he started, quietly.

"Stop," Michael snapped, amber eyes flaring up as his gaze darted back to his brother. Lucifer grimaced, shoulders tensing slightly, and that didn't go unnoticed. His older brother flinched, cursing under his breath and taking a small step back, fingers running through his blonde hair as his amber eyes dulled, fire retreating. "Dammit."

Lucifer sighed, but he kept silent this time. Michael dropped his gaze once more, teeth grinding together wordlessly now as he glared at the floor. Finally, though, Lucifer watched his expression soften, a different emotion crossing Michael's face for a second as his eyebrows furrowed. "... I remember when you were born," the archangel huffed out a slow sigh, still staring down. "You were a pretty funny looking fledgling."

Lucifer snorted, brown eyes narrowing curiously as he tilted his head at his brother. "What-" He started, but Michael shook his head, stopping him.

"I remember," the archangel started, "I remember Dad telling me and Amenadiel that you were our baby brother and we were supposed to protect you."

Once more, Lucifer snorted. A bitter smile formed on Michael's face, amber eyes flaming up for a second as he shook his head again and looked away. "I remember the first time I felt jealous of you," he murmured. "Dad was teaching you how to fly, and it all just… Clicked." At the confused look on Lucifer's face, Michael's bitter smile wavered. "I know you don't remember," he mumbled. "It was a long time ago. You were a kid. But before Earth, before the humans, you…" He trailed off. "You were pretty much the only thing Dad could pay attention to. And I hated it. I hated _you_."

"Good to know," Lucifer mumbled, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice as he looked away, letting his gaze roam around. Michael paused, and took a step forward, bringing Lucifer's attention back to him.

"I let it get to me," he told him, voice lowering. "I let the anger, the jealousy - I let it get to me. It _hurt_." His expression changed, pain flickering through his eyes for a second. "And the only thing I could think of was that if you could hurt me, then…" He trailed off, gritting his teeth.

"Then you could hurt me, too," Lucifer finished, holding his gaze. Michael shook his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself, and after a moment of silence, Lucifer reached forward and took the bottle of whiskey back, bringing it to his lips and swallowing down a few mouthfuls. Finally, though, he lowered the bottle and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. "That wasn't fair," he finally said. "I never meant to hurt you, and you had no right to treat me the way you did for something I couldn't control."

"I know." Michael flinched slightly, but he seemed a little relieved at the words, relieved Lucifer was finally sticking up for himself. "I know. I needed someone to take it out on and I chose you, and that-" He stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. "That was possibly the biggest mistake I've made in my life. Because I'm your big brother, I'm supposed to protect you, to- to teach you and help you, and instead, I…" He trailed off, a hollow laugh leaving his lips. "I fucked up so bad that you're _scared_ of me."

Lucifer opened his mouth to deny that, but he faltered, glancing away. He couldn't really object, he couldn't say he wasn't scared of Michael. Maybe not as scared as he was before, but… The angel grimaced. "If it's any consolation, I'm a lot less terrified of you than I used to be."

"Yeah," Michael sighed, looking a little uncertain. "Sam-" He stopped, and started again. " _Lucifer_ , I'm sorry."

Lucifer blinked in surprise, having no time to react before Michael spoke again.

"I can't take back anything." The archangel stared down, hands curling into fists. "I can't change what I've done, I can't go back and fix it. It's too little, too late. And I know you- Well, you hold grudges. And you have every right to!" Michael added quickly. "I don't blame you for hating me, but I don't want you to be _scared_ of me. You can hate me all you want, I deserve it, but you don't deserve to be scared anymore, so if-" He paused for a second, taking a deep breath. "If you want to get me back for… For all of it-"

Lucifer's eyebrows furrowed, frowning now as he stared at his older brother. "Michael-" He started, but he was quickly cut off.

"Listen," his brother insisted. "I _deserve_ it, I know I do, and I won't stop you, okay? I won't fight back. And, come on, I think we both know you've been wanting to kick my ass from day one, and-"

" _Michael_ ," Lucifer repeated, raising his voice a little and setting the bottle down on the counter beside him.

" _What_?" Michael asked desperately, and Lucifer glanced him over wordlessly. The look on his face, it was one he recognized all too well. Guilt, anger - Anger directed only toward himself, self-loathing at its peak and Lucifer had never seen his older brother like this before. It was weird, and, oddly enough, not satisfying in the slightest.

The angel shook his head and walked forward, wordlessly grabbing his brother by the front of his shirt, and turned to drag him over to the couch.

"What are you doing?" Michael questioned slowly, confused and wary, and Lucifer merely turned him around and pushed him down to sit on the couch before turning and heading back to the bar. Michael twisted around to watch him. "Lucifer?"

"It's _Samael_ ," Lucifer corrected, "to you, Michael." He plucked up two of the glasses that had been spared from the fight before, and reluctantly spread his wings and pushed himself up to grab one of the many bottles of alcohol on the untouched top shelf, lowering back down and folding his wings back easily. Then, plucking up the glasses, he turned and headed back over to his brother, ignoring the stunned expression on his face.

"I don't understand," Michael mumbled, sinking back into the couch. "I just gave you the green light to get back at me for everything I've done, and you…"

"It's surprising me too," Lucifer joked, twisting the top off of the bottle and pouring some of it into one of the glasses, then the other. "But." He paused, thinking. "I know what it feels like, that angry jealousy that clouds your judgement and blinds you to everything else. I mean…" He put the bottle down, picked the glasses up, and sat back. "Look who you're talking too, huh?" He held the glass out to Michael, and his older brother took it wordlessly. "I was so pissed at Dad - For so long, for just… Seemingly abandoning us for all of this." He gestured around them. "For the Earth, humanity. It felt like He was turning his back on his family for something so small. And I hated Him for it."

Michael blinked at him, then looked down, rubbing his thumb across the rim of the glass. After a moment of silence, though, a small, barely noticeable smile tugged at his lips.

Lucifer noticed, though, and he tilted his head. "What?"

"Just," Michael sighed, shaking his head. "I guess, when it comes down to it, me and you… We're not really that different, are we?"

"I suppose we're not," Lucifer responded, a small grin appearing on his face. "But we're definitely not the same. I think we can agree I've got much more sex appeal. And, of course, the best fashion choice." That got a small chuckle out of Michael, and Lucifer continued, "but, you have some redeeming qualities."

"Oh yeah?" His older brother snorted. "Name one."

"Well, you're a stuck-up jackass, and I've never, ever, in my life, heard you admit to a single thing you've done wrong, much less apologize," Lucifer started.

"How is th-"

"And yet," Lucifer cut him off. "You burst in here, past midnight, to do just that, despite how hard it must have been and how much it probably damaged your pride to admit all of that." He raised an eyebrow. "Now, I may be going off on a limb here but I believe that's what the humans call _progress_."

Thankfully enough, that got a small smile out of Michael, his older brother glancing up at him. "Is that forgiveness?"

"Perhaps," Lucifer drawled, grin widening. "I suppose if I can let go of my anger for dear old Dad, I can give my narcissistic brother a chance."

Michael laughed a bit despite himself, relief glittering through his eyes. "Thank you, Samael."

Lucifer shrugged, his grin settling into a small smile as he leaned forward and held his glass up. "To a fresh start, hm?"

"I'll drink to that," Michael replied, his own smile widening faintly as he reached up, clinking his glass against Lucifer's before bringing it to his lips and downing the whole shot. Lucifer followed suit with his own, before reaching out to take Michael's empty glass and fill them both up again.

"Now then," Lucifer hummed, leaning back and handing the glass back to Michael. "What shall we do to pass the time?"

Michael blinked, going silent in thought for a moment before speaking. "... You ever heard of Smallville?"

Lucifer tilted his head, giving him a curious look. "Curious that you know about it," he admitted, brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "Let me guess, Miss Lopez forced you to watch it?"

"Yes." Michael nodded, short and solemn. "Yes she did. And I like it."

Lucifer let out a low hum, chuckling. "Alright, we'll watch Smallville." He leaned forward, plucking the remote up from its place on the coffee table and sitting back, turning the TV on. "But after this, I'm showing you Grey's Anatomy."

"Deal."


End file.
